


The Taste of Nicotine

by GreggorMcPheeb



Series: The Intern [4]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-23
Updated: 2015-04-23
Packaged: 2018-03-25 08:15:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3803248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreggorMcPheeb/pseuds/GreggorMcPheeb





	The Taste of Nicotine

I took another sip from my JD and coke, as Barbara turned up the stereo “I love this song!” she declared, taking a swig from her bottle. I was so grateful for her letting me get ready at hers as well as pre-drinks. All the other girls were arriving with their significant others, so it was just Barb and I dancing to Taylor Swift and Beyonce from 8pm. I was glad to remind myself to only remain tipsy while I was at hers, I didn’t want the name slip from a few days ago to be blurted out while I was drunk off my face before I had even gotten to the bar. 

She twirled for me in her new dress as I gave her my approval of the outfit. As she poured me another drink, I was tempted to let her in to my little, embarrassing secret. She was the closest I had to a friend out here, but I had no idea how she would take it. Well, I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t take it badly, and she wouldn’t tell Miles; but I wasn’t in the mood for the inevitable teasing. 

I was almost thankful when the cab arrived and the short journey to the bar. It was Matt’s birthday and everyone from the company had been invited. I wasn’t used to wearing stilettos, and nearly tumbled out of the cab. As we walked into the bar, the dark atmosphere surrounded us and pounding music filled our ears. We were greeted with champagne “Fancy,” Barbara smirked as she scanned the room. The dancefloor was nearly full already, but most of the people I recognised were sitting around small tables with drinks in hand. I sauntered over, self-aware of tall heels and slippery floors. 

I was greeted with hugs from Ryan, Geoff and Griffin as I took the last spare seat. I was grateful for the seat and time to sober up from the quick drinking previously. In honesty, the champagne didn’t help, and by the time I had emptied the glass, I was willing to dance. It was Ryan who had offered to dance with me, he was clearly just as drunk as me. 

The song was simple and slow, perfect for talking to one another as we danced formally. His hand on my hip while I barely reached his shoulder, I hadn’t had the chance to get to know the AH guys properly, apart from Geoff, who I was in the recording studio with a lot, so getting this opportunity was a youthful dream come true. As the song came to a close, we headed to the bar together. I had dared Ryan to tequila shots but didn’t believe he would go ahead with it. He pushed one shot glass towards me and threw his back before I had the chance to open the salt packet. He dragged me back to the dancefloor, catching me off-guard as he grabbed my arm and race me to a group of AH boys. They all greeted me with cheers before we continued to dance as a group “I so want to see you in a dance-off with Monty,” Gavin shouted above the music.  
“He’s too good! Plus I cannot dance in his style…well. I stick to swing, jive and burlesque,” I explained and then immediately regretted it.   
“Burlesque? Like classy stripping?” Ray asked.  
“Yeah, I’m gonna leave now,” I said, turning on my heel.  
“No!” Gavin shouted, as the boys grabbed me “I will buy you a drink if you stay.”  
“Ok, but I will only tell you,” I giggled, pointing at Gavin. He immediately linked arms with me and half-dragged, half-escorted, me to the bar.  
“Spill all, you classy stripper!” he announced.  
“Shut up!” I laughed, punching him in the arm “You cannot tell a soul, not even Meg.”  
“Promise,” he slurred, ordering two vodka and cokes.   
“Ok, well I wanted to get involved when I was 16 and fell in love with all things vintage. But most burlesque groups are 18+ so I practiced and created routines until I got to university and then joined a group. I did a bunch of tours and shows, and became one of the headliners. Then when I moved to New York for my last year, I started going solo. I’ve got an audition this weekend with The Lawless Ladies here in Austin; you can’t tell anyone!” I stressed. We took two bar stools that overlooked the dancefloor as I gave a brief history of my burlesque life. After the first few awkward, yet hilarious questions, Gavin seemed genuinely interested: I was no longer a ‘classy stripper’, he even promised to correct people on behalf of me. I gave him another hug before we finished our drinks and returned to the dancefloor.

I danced all night with numerous different colleagues until I stumbled out of the dancefloor and towards the bar. I was sobering up and dehydrating, so was tempted to throw back the vodka and coke I had bought. The bar was nearly full, and the sweaty, warm atmosphere encouraged me to go outside to the smoking area. The garden area was surrounded by ferns, blocking out the streets. Park benches were scattered around the area, a few fabric umbrellas were stained with age and cigarette smoke. I always kept a lighter on me, a habit from the years I used to smoke. Well, the year I used to smoke. 

A friend of mine had dragged me along to see his heavy rock band play at a local pub, something I was not looking forward to, but I owed him. On the Tube, he had told me about his band, and one of the guitarists “I had to tell him, not to come near you! He is really hot: a photographer and a personal trainer.”  
“I hate you,” I sulked jokingly “He sounds too good to be true.”  
We arrived at the pub, it was cramped, sweaty and dark but everyone was friendly. I had tried to look as metal as possible: dark lipstick, a tiny black dress that barely covered any skin and Doc Martens. I knew I looked ridiculous and that I was trying way too hard. The first band hadn’t even started yet, and the grungy pub was filling up. The summer heat made the atmosphere more and more unbearable until I stepped outside to the smoking area. I was surprised that there were only 4 people in the garden: a group of three Goth girls, and a tall, blonde guy, dressed in leathers and jeans. I walked past him and carefully sat down at a park bench, trying to keep my dignity in check. I took a swig of my strong drink and shivered at the burn in my throat “Mind if I sit here?” an unfamiliar voice said.  
I looked and saw the guy in leathers “Sure,” I smiled.  
“You must be Mei,” he said “I’m James. Your friend told me all about you.”  
“Mind if I bum a cig?” I confidentially asked. He grinned and passed one over, lighting it while it was in my mouth.

Over that year, I became more involved with the band, purely because of James. I smoked, tried drugs, drank far too much and partied with metal bands. I never ended up enjoying metal music, and hated it even more after a year of teasing and an on/off relationship. He left to move to France for a new job a year after we met, I stopped smoking that day. The smell of cigarettes and taste of nicotine reminded me of him. I honestly loved him, and believed he loved me too.

I shook myself out of those memories, the smell of tobacco reminded me of that wasted year, especially while drunk. I turned on my heel and walked straight to the bathroom. I grabbed a few tissues and wiped the stray tears “Mei?” a female voice asked. My head perked up and I saw Lindsay walking out of a cubicle and washing her hands “You ok?”  
“Yeah, just old memories!” I laughed, chucking the tissues in the bin and checking on my make-up.  
“You want to hang with me for a bit?”  
“Thank you,” I smiled as we walked together from the bathroom.  
“If you don’t mind me asking, what old memories?” Lindsay asked as we ordered drinks.  
“Just an ex,” I said, shaking my head in disbelief of my own emotions. She pulled me in for a close hug and squeezed a little too tight but it made me laugh. 

Michael and Miles were sitting together at a table, a few empty shot glasses cluttered the surface “Having a good night boys?” I chuckled, pulling up a chair.  
“I can’t remember the last time I drank so much Sambuca,” Michael complained.  
“You love it really,” Lindsay teased, drunkenly pinching his cheek. He grumbled loudly before kissing her. Damn they were too cute to handle.  
“You look nice tonight,” Miles said as Lindsay and Michael were still being couple-y.  
“Thank you,” I smiled “You don’t look too bad yourself!”   
His laugh reminded me of the name-slip and I automatically blushed, returning to my wine. I was pretty sure my cheeks were as red as the wine I was sipping from “So, I hear you do burlesque,” he suddenly said.  
I coughed on my drink, and check that Lindsay and Michael were still distracted by each other before I asked “How did you know?”  
“Poor Gavin, he was desperate to tell someone. I promise, I am the only person he told,” he smiled. I sighed and retold the story, however Miles hadn’t started out with any of the jokes the AH gang had “So…can I come and see you perform?”  
I thought about him sitting in the audience, eyes only for me, watching every move. Staring intently as I performed for an entire audience, yet only for him at the same time “No…ok maybe at some point. Once I’ve done a few shows here in Austin. I have no idea how my routines will go down out here.”  
“I’m sure people will love you,” he reassured.  
“What are you guys chatting about?” Michael asked once he and Lindsay had detached.  
“Nothing,” Miles said before I had the chance to open my mouth.  
“Oh ok,” he replied “Hey Lindsay! Recognise this song?” Her head perked up as she remembered the song and gasped, practically dragging her husband onto the dancefloor. 

Miles and I sat alone, chatting and, perhaps, flirting. I suspected it was the drunk glaze that made me flirt but he wasn’t averse to it, instead we just joked about it. As a new song came on, Miles asked “Fancy a dance?”  
“Is that the drink talking?” I teased.  
“Probably!” he laughed. I put down my empty glass and took his hand, leading him onto the dancefloor. I managed to convince myself that the exaggerated sway of my hips was definitely the alcohol. The music had changed from party favourites to the DJ’s favourite collection as the night wore on. Miles and I were surrounded by our friends and co-workers but we danced like no one was watching, it reached a point where I no longer cared that he was watching: I just closed my eyes and moved in rhythm to the music.

Before I knew it, I felt my body pressed up against Miles’s firm chest, his warmth and musky scent radiating from him. My arm snaked around his neck as his wrapped around my waist. I opened my eyes to hear the lyrics playing from the speakers, I watched his lips as he silently sang along.

You’ve got me hypnotized,   
I’m feeling so obsessed with you.   
You left me paralyzed  
And now I’m stuck,   
You’ve got me stuck.

His dark eyes met mine, and even in the dark light I could tell the conveyed something more than platonic friendship. As the song came to an end, I slipped out of his grasp, mumbling apologies as I rushed out to the garden area once more. The night had become considerably cooler and I sat shivering on a bench “Hey,” Miles said. I looked up to see him pulling the sleeves of his plaid shirt down “You look cold.”  
“Yeah I forgot to bring a jacket,” I sighed, rubbing my cold arms.  
“Here,” he said, offering his plaid shirt.  
“You’ll freeze,” I replied.  
“It’s a risk I’m willing to take,” he smiled as I pulled on the warm shirt. It definitely smelt like him. I heard the bench creak as he sat down beside me “You do look good, even in my clothes!” I laughed, forgetting the look in his eyes while we were dancing. I leant on his shoulder as the laughter faded awkwardly. I sat up straight and we made eye contact, silence filled with white-noise and faded music “I really want to kiss you,” he whispered.  
“Whoa!” I nearly shouted, standing up from the bench “Like one dance and a chat. Mate I’m not going to make out with you just from that. You accidentally find out I’m a burlesque dancer and all of a sudden you act like I’m the only woman left on Earth! I’m just this sexy, exotic, burlesque, classy stripper to you!”  
“That’s not right at all,” he tried to reassure.   
“Don’t try and follow me,” I added, throwing his shirt back at him and storming out of the bar.


End file.
